


Late Night

by avxry



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Cute, Fast Food, Nonbinary Lafayette, Other, pre slash, restaurant, slight mentions of transphobia but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-30 01:04:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8512822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avxry/pseuds/avxry
Summary: It's seven minutes until closing and he wishes that he could just clock out already.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saltyspacerock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyspacerock/gifts).



> This was requested by the lovely saltyspacerock!! Thank you!!

Hercules is tired and covered in the stench of fries and ketchup. He's sweeping slowly. It's seven minutes until closing and he wishes that he could just clock out already. 

He's dealt with crying babies, soccer moms, senior citizens, and toddlers running rampant, and he still has homework to do. 

He stares at the clock. Five minutes. So close. 

And someone walks in the door. Hercules internally groans. The joint is usually dead at this time of night so he's the only one working, which means whatever this guy wants is on him. 

He barely looks at the person before going back to the register. "Can I help you, sir?" He can't keep the twinge of annoyance out of his voice. 

"Xir," they correct quietly. Hercules looks up at really looks at the for the first time. 

"Hey," he says cautiously, "you doing okay?" 

They look on the verge of a breakdown. Their hair is a tousled mess, their eyes are a little bloodshot, their hands tremble just slightly. 

"Fine," they say absently. "Um, a small order of curly fries, please." 

Hercules is caught off guard by their deep French accent (because yeah, they're upset, but they're also really cute and no, Hercules shouldn't be thinking this right now, but that doesn't make it any less true) but nods and punches in the order. 

"That'll be one-ninety-eight," he says, and takes the money he's given. "Here's your receipt, they'll be done in just a minute." 

The person nods and takes the receipt, leaving back on the counter behind them. Hercules gives them one last wary look and goes to the frier. 

He dumps the fries into the oil and glances back at the person, who looks more and more distressed by the second. 

Hercules feels bad for them, no longer worried about getting out on time. He's always been a sucker for cute people. 

He pulls the fires out of the oil and sticks them in a box taking them back to the front. 

He goes to hand them to the person, but he sees they're they're crying, softly, sniffling. They look up with doe eyes. 

"Oh, thank you," they say, stepping up to the counter to take the fries. 

Hercules looks at them sympathetically. "Hey, hey," he says gently, setting the fries on the counter, "what's going on?" 

They shake their head and shrug, running a hand through their hair. "It's nothing, I am sorry." 

"Do you need help or anything?" Hercules asks gently, craning his neck to look the person in the face. 

"No, no," they deny with a polite smile. "Thank you . . ?" 

"Hercules," he provides, returning the smile, but he still looks concerned. "Are you sure?" 

They nod a little but say, "It is just . . . My roommate is conservative, and I am . . ." They trail off with a shrug and a little chuckle, signaling at themself. 

Hercules can tell what they mean; they're wearing striking clothes, typically considered feminine, but honestly, Hercules thinks they look absolutely adorable. 

"If it's any consolation," he offers with a smile, "I think you look great." 

They eye him oddly, then giggle, sniffling. "Are you flirting with me in this state, Hercules?" 

Hercules feels blush creeping up his neck. He chuckles and directs his gaze to the floor. "I, uh. I should probably work on my timing." 

They look at him with a glint in their eye, a smile making its way to their face. After a moment, they say, "I am Lafayette." 

Hercules looks up cutely, grinning shyly. "Lafayette." They share a look quietly, something intangible passing between them. 

Finally, Hercules snaps back into the present. "Well, Lafayette," he says with a smile, "here are your curly fries." 

Lafayette grins, reaching out to take them. 

"And," Hercules adds, grabbing a napkin and a pen, "here is my number." He scribbles on the napkin and passes it to Lafayette, who is wiping their eyes on their sleeve, smiling. 

"Call me sometime," Hercules instructs with a flirtatious smile. 

"I will," Lafayette nods assuredly, taking their fries and the napkin, grinning. 

They share one last glance as Lafayette walks out the door. Hercules sighs and goes to clock out. 

He punches out and immediately takes off his apron, folding it in his arms. He turns out the lights and locks up, heading out to his car. Just as he's climbing in the seat, his phone rings. 

He pulls it out and sees the unknown number. Raising an eyebrow, he answers. 

"Hello?" 

"Do you want to get a coffee?" 

The voice on the other line is lilted with a French accent, and Hercules grins to himself. 

"Yeah," he replies, looking out his window to see Lafayette standing at their car across the parking lot, holding their phone and smiling in his direction. "Yeah, that'd be nice." 

Hercules isn't so tired anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I ship a French general and a tailor spy from the 1700s what has my life become 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I'll take prompts on tumblr @avory or even here in the comments!!


End file.
